Should Peter pay for Paul?

It’s graduation season. A cursory look at various social media accounts will show tons of pictures of young people in graduation gowns and prom dresses, in commencement photos and make-up sessions. Signifying the end of one stage and the beginning of another, the commencement exercise here is a rite of passage that starts (incredulously) upon leaving kindergarten.

Last week, a local school made news when the principal made good on his promise not to have a graduation ceremony if the students persisted in behaviour that they had been warned about. After the dust had settled – and to hear some people tell it – it appeared that the behaviour of the students warranted the unprecedented action. But I’m gathering that it wasn’t the entire class – so what about the rest of them? Like others, I could talk about the guilty ones and how it serves them right and question where their parents were in all of this, but what about the rest of them?

I’m trying to rack my brain for a similar example from when I was much younger, and I’m not coming up with anything. I’m thinking that there must have been some story that I can relate from back in the day that parallels this one. You know – where the innocent had to suffer for the guilty, but it taught us a valuable lesson, nonetheless? But I’m drawing a blank.

I could, however, relate some recent examples involving my own children.

My daughter is a Brownie and a few months ago, the Girl Guides celebration of World Thinking Day was marked by several activities – one of which was a hike of several miles. I decided to go along, and donning my walking shoes (because I hate sneakers), we traversed some areas where I hadn’t actually been before. Along the way, the girls attempted to get to know about their counterparts in other companies – but it was really to see who could make it back before the others.

The hike was to culminate with a bonfire around which the girls would sing campfire songs while roasting marshmallows. My daughter was out of her skin when she heard that part. I had to buy a whole pack of those sugar bombs which she shared with a classmate who had a stick, but no marshmallow. Returning to camp after the walk, we lined up for food (some of which ran out), while some leaders started the bonfire.

Each company had to make a presentation in song and there were twelve or so groups. Darkness was descending quickly. The girls were getting restless, and admittedly, a little loud. A bull-horn was used to quiet them down, but it didn’t work very well. By the time the sixth or seventh company had made their presentation, you couldn’t see the face of the person across from you. I was ready to go, but with the bonfire well underway now, there was no way I could even think of leaving.

Another round of presentations. Who knew which company this was? The bonfire roared and the girls inched ever closer. The bull-horn told them to step back – and to be quiet. It was officially night now and the flames from the bonfire were the only source of illumination. Company leaders began to call out for their members because they certainly couldn’t see them. Some left on the waiting buses before it was all over, because they really had to get back. There was a constant hum of anticipation. Finally, the last company made its presentation. The girls had their marshmallow-topped sticks at the ready. After one last entreaty from the bull-horn, the flames of the bonfire were doused. The campfire was over. The marshmallows remained untoasted – because, as we adults like to say, “who don’t hear will feel”.

It was dark, but you could see (and hear) the disappointment. I guess that was the level of quiet the bull-horn had been looking for.

And so, World Thinking Day ended on a sour note because the actions of a few (who I don’t think could have even been pinpointed), warranted punishment for all.

When we got home, I fired up the stove and we had our roasted marshmallows. I’m not a fan of those spongy balls of sugar – but we made the best of the situation and had our “bonfire” after all. Maybe those parents should do the same.

At my high school, I feel like a lot of people got away with things they shouldn’t have, and vice versa. A lot of the public school kids who transferred in called my school “summer camp with books” because of the lax disciplinary policies – I got detention a few times, but rather than sitting in the detention room for lunch, I asked if I could just sit alone in a teacher’s office or an empty classroom by myself for lunch, which is probably what I would have done anyway. It took a lot for anyone to get seriously disciplined. There was one incident that I wrote about on my blog awhile back that two guys pulled, that got one kicked out for good, and the other got his diploma but didn’t get to walk with us – either way, both of them ended up going to decent colleges, mostly because of $$ and our school’s relatively high reputation. Ugh.

But still, I feel like a lot of high school misbehaviors should be taken with consideration – was it illegal, or just annoying? Did it cause harm to anyone or just embarrassment?